All Alone
by ash911
Summary: Max is having a hard time coping with Fang's departure and Angel's death. She isn't acting like herself: she's miserable and skips meals. Everyone is worried about her and finally, Dylan does something about it. He tries talking to her, but the conversation doesn't end well. Max only finds herself even more miserable than she was before their conversation. Oneshot.


**This story is stolen from my previous account. It was a chaptered story on that account, but I made the first chapter into a oneshot here. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Maximum Ride. All characters belong to James Patterson.**

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I heard the pitter-patter of the rain falling on my roof: it had started to drizzle. I watched carefully as water slowly drenched the dry grass, quenching it of its thirst. I was sitting on the porch outside my mom's house in Arizona, taking in all of my surroundings. It was so dry here; a little water ought to do it some good. I was keeping half an eye out for dangers like another mutant robot out to kill me, or something. See, that's the only benefit of being chased all your life: even in your darkest hour, in your most depressing state, you never let your guard down. But right now, I was quite confident that nothing would swoop down from the sky and randomly attack me, so I my mind stirred back to the rain falling from the sky. I found myself absorbed in thoughts of water for some strange, random reason. How could water be so soothing and elegant, yet so dangerous and deadly at the same time? We need water to survive, but it could take us out in less than a minute if set in motion. Seriously, you'd be crazy to actually have the time to think about this, but on the other hand, I think it's worth giving a thought or two about. I was still so remarkably entranced by this concept that I hadn't even noticed that someone had been calling my name.

I blinked once at the sound, and before I could register what was going on, two hands had clasped down on my shoulders. "Max!" they yelled. I cursed under my breath for not paying close enough attention to my surroundings. Reacting to my natural instincts, I grabbed their hand, stood up, and twisted it above my head, making them kneel down in front of me. I was just about to land my traditional round-house kick on them when I realized who it was. I let go.

"Jeez, you're a way better fighter than I thought you were," Dylan chuckled, standing up and massaging his shoulders. I rolled my eyes, sighed, and drifted back to my spot on the porch. I continued to watch the rain fall, realizing it had become a lot heavier now.

"Max..." Dylan said, now adopting a serious tone.

"What?" I asked, my throat dry like sandpaper.

"It's two in the morning."

"Thanks for the update." It was a good sign that I could still give smart-ass replies even when I was alleged to be depressed.

"What are you doing out here, Max? Everyone's asleep," he claimed.

"Watching the rain," I replied, "and keeping guard." I heard smirk from behind me at m last remark.

"You're not acting like yourself. You haven't been sleeping regularly and you've been skipping all your meals. All you ever do now is sit out here. Max, you won't even talk to anyone." That was true; everything he said was true, and even I was astounded that I _had_ been skipping munch hours. No one in the flock would ever pass up a decent meal.

When I didn't say anything, Dylan continued, "Max, go inside. You're getting wet. We're worried about you; _I'm _worried about you." He sounded close to desperate.

I snorted. "Don't be. I'm fine."

"Max. Listen to me. You can't stay like this forever. The flock needs you. Your mom and Ella need you. We all need you, Max. You're the leader. What are we supposed to do if you're just gonna' mope around all day?" Dylan persisted.

He was really starting to irritate me now. "I'm fine, Dylan. If you're so worried, why don't _you_ run this circus?" I answered.

"Max, I'm being serious!"

"So am I." I said evenly, not looking at him.

"What?" He was startled.

I turned to face him, my eyes narrowing. "So am I, Dylan. Why is it me? Why do I have to save the world? 'Cause up until now, it really hasn't done me much good."

Dylan was taken aback, unsure of what to say. I sneered, satisfied that I had finally rendered him speechless. "Max..."

I sighed. "Dylan, I'm just tired of this, okay? Why don't you just leave me alone, it will do us all good."

"Max, I _want_ to help you. If you'd just tell me what's going on, th—"

"LEAVE! I told you, I'm fine! Just go away! Scram, I don't need you!" I finally snapped.

I saw hurt register in his eyes but I turned away. I knew he would leave now; I had gone past my limits.

Unfortunately, I couldn't have been more wrong; all of a sudden, faster than I could comprehend, Dylan was behind me. He grabbed my hand tightly and pulled me up.

"What. Are. You doing?!" Still grasping my hand, he began to drag me into the house.

"Let—me—go!" I struggled to escape from his tight clasp, but my efforts were futile. Even though I hadn't eaten right for weeks, I was still way stronger than the average human; but, then again, Dylan wasn't exactly human, either.

As I had suspected, Dylan ignored my order. In fact, in response, he only grabbed my arm tighter and marched me up the stairs to my room. He whipped me inside, slammed the door behind him and then locked it. Only then did he finally let me go before turning to face me.

"What do you think you're doing?" I shrieked as softly as I could, worried that someone else in the house might hear.

He chuckled softly, sarcastically. "No Max, it's what do _you_ think you're doing? You're the leader of this flock. You have a responsibility. You can't just ditch whenever you want."

I registered his words and realized he was right, once again. Of course, this only made me angrier. "I'm not ditching. I think I'm doing a real fine job of running the flock, anyway. Don't tell me my responsibilities, Dylan; I've been through a lot more than you're 1 year old mind could ever even imagine."

Dylan's nostrils flared. "Why are you doing this?! You're the leader! Where's that Leader Max that everyone knows? I always liked you for your determination to keep the pack together, and the fact that you try and stay strong for them!" He was raging now. I wished he would be a little quieter; Iggy had like, super-sonic hearing.

"Wow, isn't that a shame that you don't like me anymore? Oh no, what shall I do? My whole life is dedicated to making you happy, Dylan." My humor was dry and raw, but Dylan understood I was making fun of him.

"Max!" He tousled his hair in irritation.

"What do you want?" He stopped and looked up at me, a dark expression crossing his face.

I was taken aback. "What?" I asked, worried.

He slowly started to inch towards me, and I took a step back. Inch by inch, he trotted closer and closer to me to the point where I became uneasy.

"Dylan, w-what are you doing?" I questioned.

He didn't answer, just kept on striding towards me as I instinctively moved back. Okay, let me get one thing straight: Dylan is tall; like, really tall. I mean we all are, but he's almost as tall as Iggy! And trust me, when you have a fuming, 6'2 guy who is abnormally strong marching towards you like he wants to kill you, you might get a little edgy.

"Dylan w-what are you doing?" I inquired again. Still, he didn't reply, just continued to walk up, closer and closer to me. When we reached my bed, I plopped down and looked up at him.

"Dylan..."

He bent down over me, and placed his hands on either side of me on the bed, then leaned in closer and looked at me without saying a word. To my own embarrassment and guilt, I found myself staring into his beautiful turquoise eyes that reminded me so much of the Caribbean. For a long time, we just stayed like that, staring into each other's eyes, and the anger inside me slowly ebbed away as I sat, tranquilized by his gorgeous eyes. Though I became a little calmer, I could literally feel the suspense building up and I waited patiently for what would come next. Dylan then quietly broke the silence.

"Is it Fang?" he whispered.

When he said that, it felt like I had been stabbed right in the chest. I snapped out of my trance and punched him, hard, right on his nose. I heard a sound like twigs snapping, only far more horrible, and I knew I had broken his nose. Following my punch, I kneed him square in the stomach and elbowed him roughly in the ribs. I would have gone for more, but he grabbed my fist to stop me from causing any more damage to his fascinatingly flawless face; he had blood pouring from his nose. Against my will, I was forced to stop, weak as I was.

"So it is, isn't it?" he asked. "You're still thinking about him, even though he left you like—that." He chuckled, a sad, dry laugh. "I should have known. I should've—"

"How can you say that?" I hissed quietly. "How can you say that when my baby isn't here? How can you say I'm thinking about Fang when Angel's dead?" I spat, close to tears. My voice level rose at each sentence.

Dylan's features softened and he cast his eyes down, ashamed and embarrassed.

I sighed and stalked to the door. Before I could open it, Dylan stopped me. "Max...Max, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean that. It's just...the last time, you were like that too. I'm sorry, I just didn't want you to be troubled. I want you to be happy. I'm-I'm sorry, Max." He sounded sincere.

"Yeah, well, stuff your sorry in a sack. I'm out." I raced out of my room and sped down the stairs. Dylan followed me, right on my heels.

"Where are you going?" he shouted from behind me. No doubt someone in the house had heard us by now. The last thing I needed was my mom questioning me the next morning about my feelings. I _hate_ talking about emotions.

I fled to the balcony and was about to make my ever-dramatic exit by taking into the air, forgetting that it was raining cats and dogs outside, but Dylan caught me just in time.

"Look, Max, I'm sorry and I know that you're going through a hard time right now but you're not the only one. People are relying on you. The flock looks up to you, for you to tell them what to do. I look up to you Max. We need you," he said. For some reason, that made me mad too. Why does he have the right to stand here and lecture me? I knew he was right, but that didn't mean I wanted to hear it.

"Alright Dylan, thanks for the speech. You should take up preaching by the way: you're good at it. Now, if you don't mind, could you scurry on back inside now?" I said coldly.

"MAX! Is this some sort of a game to you? You know you're supposed to save the world, right? The whole world rests on your shoulders and you're just sitting here on your lazy ass moping about the past and watching the rainfall. You're supposed to be a leader." He didn't bother even attempting to be nice this time.

"Well, it's good to know that I'm responsible for the world's survival. Thanks. That made me feel _loads_ better." Dylan looked like he wanted to punch me.

"Max—!"

"Ooh, better not touch me, hot shot. If I die, the world dies, remember? Gotta' keep me safe now, don't we?" I commented, oozing sarcasm, my mouth twisting into a cruel grin.

Dylan was angrier than I'd ever seen him. Even in the dark, it was as if I could literally see furious heat waves rising from him and steam coming out of his ears. His whole aura had changed, making the atmosphere deadly cold. I can't say I wasn't a little intimidated. I knew he was fighting the urge to knock me in the face, but after a long stare-down, he finally only suppressed a sigh.

When he spoke again a couple minutes later, the atmosphere was back to normal and he had calmed down. The house was quiet.

All he said was, "Whatever, Max."

And then, he went back inside the house, leaving me alone in the pouring rain as if it had never happened.

I felt a sudden dread that I couldn't explain and I found myself more miserable than even before our little quarrel.

_Why is my life so twisted? Why couldn't I just be a normal teenager?_ I thought and then I laughed bitterly. Normal life? Me?

"Ha, keep dreaming, Max." I mumbled under my breath.

But when Dylan had left, it stabbed at my heart, which really annoyed me, 'cause I shouldn't care what Dylan thinks. Then I realized that he wasn't the problem; well, not _just_ him.

_People enjoy abandoning me, don't they?_ I thought, because it was true. And that was the problem: everyone who I had loved had left me. They'd left me all alone, all by myself.


End file.
